As the chair juddered to a halt I just lay there staring at the ceiling. Maddie came and put it upright again.
“Shall I run you a bath?”
I didn’t answer, so she did it anyway. I sank under the hot water, watching an unfamiliar ceiling go wishy washy before my eyes, let out a breath and surged to the surface, causing a tidal wave that narrowly missed my pile of towels on the floor. I lay in the stillness and silence thinking nothing at all, then heaved my heavy body out and pulled the plug out, watching the water drain away, unwanted, dragged back into the ground from where it had come.
I took the phone out of the drawer. As I did so, a message flashed up.
I know where you are. You can’t hide from me anymore.
I lay in silence on my bed, feeling my hair wet on the pillow, remembering how my Granny used to say you’d get a cold like that. I was paralysed, unable to make the decision to go, because my gut told me I was safe. Stepping out of the trench and racing through no-man’s land wasn’t an option. I slept some more, still wrapped in my towel, pulling the duvet round me on each side. I woke at one and went to the bathroom, feeling the weight of my limbs with every step. I looked at my reflection in the mirror and puffy frightened eyes stared back, questioning, what now? I had to get away.
Chapter 25
Sunday
I left as the sun was rising. It must have been before six. I think I was surprised to have woken up alive. Maddie was a late riser and we had said our goodbyes at midnight. I texted her to make sure she locked the doors and kept to the back of the house, just in case
I was half way back to London, a few miles from where Sally lived with her no-good boyfriend when I ran into stationery traffic and sent her a message. Could I pop in. He wouldn’t find me there. Her reply to my text arrived within seconds.
I’m here. Come over.
Ensconced in the most comfortable armchair in the world, I fumbled through the story nursing a cup of tea. Sally nodded, frowned, gasped, sighed and listened until I got to the end. But it wasn’t the end. I was still waiting for that to happen.
“Am I going mad?”
“You’re not going mad Rach, but he is messing with your head, and you need some, what do Americans call it? Closure?”
“I don’t think it’s just for Americans, but yes. I need answers. I want to know why, what was the endgame?”
“Possibly nothing at all. Just like you said to me about Graham. If he is a psychopath, there is probably no endgame at all. It’s just a process he goes through, where everything he does is completely alien to us, but we reframe it to make it fit, because basically we have no concept of someone behaving like this. It’s too hard to comprehend. We rationalise, tell it as we want it to be rather than like it is.”
“And what about you? What news of Mr Commitment? Still on the scene?”
Sally ran her hand through her unkempt hair and stared out of the window before turning back with an attempt at a grin. “He goes home two nights a week now. When he’s here, it’s a bit tense, and he won’t go out with me anywhere.”
“What happened to funny?”
“It’s in there somewhere, I know it is. I know there is a lovely man who’s just frightened to be himself.”
“You’re sure he’s lovely? Did you ever check him out?”
“In what way?”
“Well, do you know for sure he was in the navy?”
Sally stared at me, then out of the window. “No, I guess I don’t.”
We sat in the silence that only friends can share. Then she said “He says he’s going to change things, make things different for us.”
“You and Maddie both.”
“Oh?”
“Chris says that to her, you know, that eventually they will be together but just not yet. He doesn’t want to upset the kids just before GCSEs and stuff.”
“It makes you wonder what’s worse, knowing about the wife, or them pretending they haven’t got one.”
“Like Harry.”
“Oh Sal, what do you think this is all about?”
Chapter 26
Either you do or you don’t
The answer came in the empty days that followed. No reply from Tabitha about whether Harry had booked Highfield Manor for August, nothing from the FA, and not a word from Harry. Day after day I watched his WhatsApp photo and status change, from scenes of the City of London after the Borough Market incident, to moody selfies in designer shades that screamed “watch out”. Back in New Malden, I got into the habit of putting a chain on the door, not just at night. I told the children it was a new rule and it invalidated the insurance if we didn’t do it.
“When did you start caring about rules Mummy?” was the response.
Messages came in from Jess, and she accepted my version of events with a sadness that made me feel I had failed. “He is still a good man, he has a good heart,” she said, “His feelings were real.” I must be a bad, bad person not to have appreciated that. Now it was too late. I messaged Maya and Caro with an update and they came back straightaway, with concerns about my safety, my well-being, my mental state, and I assured them I was fine. Anything less would have paved the way for I told you so. The truth was that I was numb. I felt nothing but emptiness.
The last person I told was Isabel. She hadn’t come to my party, and I hadn’t seen her since that dinner on the first night Harry cancelled our date. From time to time she had crossed my mind. When I was lying in Harry’s arms, safe from the world. I wanted to tell her things had turned out okay. But now I was glad I never had. I sent her a message just telling her she had been right about him all along. She sent me a smiley face and some kisses.
I began to sink into a dark place somewhere between sickness and sadness, sleeping all day, lying awake all night. I told Sadie and Josh with enforced cheerfulness that I’d had a change of heart, that I’d decided Harry wasn’t the one for me after all. They didn’t react with any memorable joy, surprise or disbelief, just took it in their stride, the way they had learnt to since the day their safe world had been rocked all those years ago by their father’s breakdown our divorce, the house move. I told them we were on good terms, that there were no hard feelings. I realise that was a mistake now, because of that happened to Josh, but it seemed a good idea at the time.
It was a week after I got home that I finally went to the police station as instructed. The reception area was stuffy and smelt of damp. I took my place in the queue while men in boiler suits walked through carrying drills, waving their passes at the sergeant on duty. In front of me, a girl in a pink fur jacket with a baby in a pram was brushing tears from her eyes, looking around anxiously, and then up at the clock on the wall. In front of her, a stocky bald man cleared his throat, one elbow on the counter, and spoke loudly through the glass. He was taken through the alarmed door by the desk officer. I wondered what he’d done, or what someone thought he’d done. Perhaps he was innocent, just in the wrong place at the wrong time, a victim of someone else’s paranoia or mistaken identity, and was already plotting his revenge on his accuser.
The pink woman was next. I couldn’t hear what she said because the drilling had started somewhere at the back of the building. They moved her to the side where she filled in some forms, rocking the pram expertly with her left foot.
Then it was my turn. I told the tired face in front of me that I’d been asked to come down to talk about a crime. As I spoke, I heard myself apologising, felt the heat of embarrassment rise up through me, because suddenly I didn’t know why I was there, what Harry had done, or even whether it was in fact me who was guilty. Distrust and paranaoia had brought me here. I was a fake, an imposter, an attention seeker.
There was a nod, a buzz on a pager and two officers appeared, one holding open the security barrier while the other ushered me through. We walked down narrow carpeted corridors to a small hot room with no windows. I sat opposite them on a plastic chair, feeling suddenly like a fraud, wasting police time.
One officer asked the questions while the other wrote furiously on a notepad, occasionally asking me to repeat things, sign things, explain things. There was nothing to look at apart from their blank faces, asking why I wouldn’t let them take on this man, come down on him like a ton of bricks for something I couldn’t even prove.
“When was the last time you heard from him?”
“Last week, sometime. He said he was coming for me.”
It sounded pathetic, repeating the words like that. I almost saw the younger officer smirk.
“And have you told him you no longer wish him to contact you?” asked the female officer.
I hesitated. “No. Not in so many words. I suppose it’s all been about keeping the volume down, placating him.”
The officers exchanged glances.
“Is that what you want? You want him to stop all contact with you?”
“I suppose so.”
The female officer smiled a patronising smile and looked at her watch. “Well either you do, or you don’t. We can’t move forward with this until you make that clear.”
Tears rose in my eyes. "I wished... I mean… He frightens me. He’s lied to me. I want to know what the truth is. I don’t want him to do this to someone else. I want to feel safe.” I was sounding stark raving mad. I could see it on their faces, but she carried on reciting her script.
“We take abusive relationships very seriously indeed. Especially where there are children involved, obviously.”
“And apparently he has a criminal record for causing death by drunk driving.”
They said nothing, just looked at each other. The younger one raised his eyebrows.
“Well does he?” I stared at him, wondering if I could break him if I stared hard enough. At least he was the first to look away.
“We can’t disclose details like that I’m afraid.”
“Or whether there was a laptop stolen at Godalming station? Because if that’s not true then yes he has extorted money from me, and it’s a crime and yes I want to report it.”
“That is a matter for the transport police, so it’s up to their procedures I’m afraid how much information they can divulge.”
“What about the FA? Can’t you find out if he was lying about that?”
“They have their own confidentiality procedures which we can’t interfere with without a good reason.”
All roads led to nothing. I had thrown away this relationship, this man who loved me more than the world, because of my paranoid delusions. I was the fantasist.
I let myself go a bit after that. The words poured out like vomit. I said I was worried that it was all a hoax, that it was making me crazy not knowing what was true or not. I didn’t trust my own judgment anymore. If there was all that cash flying around, why would he be pursuing me for the odd fifty quid? The shell companies owned by Harry, his father and Paul Rathbone had all been set up by the same outfit. But that could mean nothing just as much as everything.
They didn’t react to any of this, just took more notes, nodded, and when I’d finished, glanced at each other and shuffled their papers in symmetrical unison, like images in a mirror.
“I’m going to ask you one more time, because it is important we are absolutely clear on this. Would you like us to track this man down and have a word with him?”
My heart was already racing at the thought of it.
“No. Please don’t do that. If you go looking for him he will see you coming, he’ll know I’ve sent you and he’ll come for me. I just want to find out why he lied. And I want not to be scared anymore. I want you to tell me that I don’t need to be afraid, which means I need to know the truth.” I was ranting like a mad woman.
“I understand”, said the female officer, whose job it was to tame me, make me compliant, use her sisterhood act to get me to give them the green light. “This happens, and it isn’t your fault. You were blindsided, and you mustn’t give yourself a hard time for something you had no control over.”
“I’m not giving myself a hard time. You are.”
“I’m sorry but like I say, our hands are tied. Either you authorise us to pay him a visit or you don’t. If you don’t, then nothing more will happen. It’s up to you.”
I said nothing, just hung my head, hating this.
“You don’t want to take it any further? Are you absolutely sure?”
I nodded, and they stood up in unison, scraping their chairs, choreographing my exit.
“Well don’t hesitate to get in touch if there is anything else, or if you change your mind. Someone from CID will give you a call in a few days’ time.”
It was the longest weekend. My first one without either Harry or the kids to keep me company. To keep myself busy I fired off various messages to other people, about work, exams, holiday plans, a yoga class.
I kept my phone beside me all weekend, just in case. Just in case of what – I wasn’t sure. Deep down I probably wanted someone to call and say there had been some terrible mistake, that the glitch had been fixed and that the universe would be operating normally again from now on. Even a call from CID would have done, a friendly voice asking if I was okay, whether I’d had second thoughts. Then I found myself texting Julie.
Just checking in to see if you’ve seen our friend at all since we spoke.
Her reply came back a few minutes later
Not seen him. Are you okay?
Yes, I’m okay. Still can’t piece it all together though.
Well, like I said, I think keep away from that man, if you can.
Thanks Julie. Will do. Take care x
Her words if you can stuck with me. I checked and double checked the chain on the door that night.
Then Maya called. It was Sunday afternoon and the children were with Adam for lunch. I was lying on the sofa in the dark, heavy curtains shutting out the July sunshine. I was dragged from deep sleep by the ringtone which took a while to register. For a second I thought it was my alarm and it was Monday morning. I fumbled for the phone and managed a hoarse hello.
“Rach, it’s me. Is everything okay?”
“Yes, sort of. What do you mean?”
“I mean, are you okay, right now. Where are you?”
“At home. Been asleep. What’s up?”
“I mean, well this is going to sound weird, but have you heard from Harry at all?”
“Not for a while. I only just got back at the weekend. Why?”
“I think I just saw him.”
“Where?” My heart leapt and pounded, stomach churned.
“Look, I’m not a hundred percent sure it was him.”
“Where?”
“Going into Maddie’s house.”
I sank back down into the sofa, my heartbeat loud in my chest, blood pumping in my ears. I felt sick. “When?”
“About ten minutes ago. I recognised him first by the way he walks, you know that kind of swagger he has. He didn’t look like himself in any other way actually. He was wearing shades and a baseball cap. He was on his phone, jacket slung over one shoulder, then he got to her house and rang the bell.”
“She let him in? You saw her let him in?” Fury and fear filled my body as I waited for her response.
“Well yes, I mean I presume she did, because the next minute he was inside with the door shut.”
“What do you think it is? What’s going on? Has she been seeing him all along?”
“Look, I feel bad for telling you all this, especially as we have no idea about the circumstances. It may be completely innocent. He may have come to pick up his stuff. Who knows?”
“She would have told me if she was going to see him again. And she wouldn’t be seeing him again, not after everything we went through. It doesn’t make sense.”
“When did you last hear from her?”
“A few days ago? I don’t know. Not since Devon. She’s been quiet for a while I suppose. Quieter than usual.”
“Well I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know whether to say… I hope
I’ve done the right thing telling you.”
“Yes, you’ve done the right thing.”
“Good. I hope so.”
“Let me have a think. I need to think.” My brain was refusing to get into gear. I said goodbye and closed my eyes, concentrating as hard as I could. Maddie, who had said we were okay, that the past was water under the bridge, was getting her revenge at last. I took deep breaths, knowing that anger was not the answer, and that anything I decided to do right now wouldn’t be the right decision.
I called Jess and told her.
“Can you talk to Maddie, find out what’s going on?” she suggested, predictably.
“I don’t know if I even want to know.”
“And do you know for sure it was him?”
“Maya says she recognised his swagger.”
“Ah, I remember that. It was kinda unique.”
The Delusionist Page 16